All In
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: "Let's just say that you wouldn't want to shake his hand." "Mister, he wouldn't want to shake mine."  Rogue meets Todd.  Written for a Stargateland challenge.


Note: This fic is set post-series for SGA and in some AU future after X2.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Stargate_ or _X-Men_.

* * *

Rogue is in Las Vegas, looking for Magneto and his goons, when someone else catches her eye. He's very tall and extremely pale, with long white hair and skin that seems to leech color out of the garish lights of the casino. He's wearing black leather pants and a black trench coat and striding with purpose past the electronic games to the card room at the back.

Because she is watching—because there's something about him that makes her look twice, and it's not the fact that he's eerily good looking—she also sees the four men who are following him. They do a surprisingly good job of blending in, considering two of them have buzz cuts and she can just make out the bulge of a gun under each of their suit jackets. She's had a lot of experience in picking soldiers and government agents out of a crowd, though—plus she's got Logan's memories in her head, and he's been doing it for decades—and she instinctively recognizes the two with close hair cuts as Marines. She's not sure what to make of the other two—one has dreadlocks that wouldn't be allowed in any armed force that she knows of, and the other, the leader, who blends in the best, has wild, decidedly non-regulation hair—but after watching them for a few minutes she's convinced that they're the most dangerous of the group.

So. A man who makes her senses tingle being followed by four men with combat and stealth training. The thought is enough to make her hackles rise.

She murmurs into her radio to give Logan and Bobby the heads up that she's going into the poker room. They split up over an hour ago to canvas the casinos. Professor X said that it was a long shot that Magneto and the Brotherhood would be in Vegas proper—using Cerebro he'd only been able to pinpoint them to "somewhere in Nevada"—but they'd all agreed that they would prefer to check out the city before wandering into the desert on a wild goose chase. She has her doubts that they're going to find Magneto no matter how hard they look. He's an evil genius, after all, and usually—in her personal experience, and in her memories of his life—his plans work perfectly right up to the point where they don't.

It's easy to spot the strange man—she's almost certain he's a mutant—in the poker room. She expected him to be near the back, but instead he's close to the entrance. There are four other people at his table, not counting the dealer, and one is the man with spiky hair. Spiky Hair looks far too relaxed in his chair, a pair of sunglasses hiding his eyes. There are empty seats on either side of the mutant.

She goes to the counter and exchanges most of her emergency money for chips, then takes the seat next to the mutant. He doesn't look at her—doesn't seem to notice her—but Spiky Hair shifts in his seat like seeing her next to the mutant makes him uncomfortable. Probably he's worried about having a "normal" person in such close proximity to such a dangerous individual.

She sets her chips on the table and tugs off her gloves, wiggling her fingers for a moment and enjoying the sensation of cool air on her bare skin. She tucks the gloves into her pocket and tosses in a chip for the big blind.

She hasn't played all that much poker herself, but Logan's spent plenty of hours playing hold 'em and five card draw in the dingy back rooms of bars, so she knows how to avoid making a fool of herself. Still, half an hour in she's down nearly half her chips and the only other woman at the table has left. The mutant is eerily good at spotting a bluff, and Spiky Hair has amazing luck, and so far just about every hand has gone to one or the other of them.

Eventually Spiky Hair goes all in with a smirk and a slouch. On the table are the three of hearts, seven of spades, king of hearts, queen of diamonds, and ten of hearts. The mutant folds, making Spiky Hair smirk all the harder, but Rogue calls, which makes him frown and stare at her through the dark lenses of his glasses as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"Turn 'em over," the dealer says.

Spiky Hair has a nine and a Jack. The straight. Rogue raises an eyebrow and flips over her ace and nine of hearts. Flush.

"Flush wins," the dealer says, and pushes the mound of chips to her.

Next to her, the mutant chuckles. To her surprise, instead of becoming angry Spiky Hair lets out a little laugh as well.

"Looks like I'm done," he drawls, pushing back his chair and standing. He heads, not to the door, but to the bar, where he orders what looks like a Coke. Once there, he nods to the man with dreadlocks, probably a signal for him to take the seat he just abandoned.

This is probably Rogue's only chance to speak to the mutant without being overheard by the military men.

"You're being followed," she tells him quietly as she peeks at the cards she's just been dealt.

He stiffens as if surprised to be spoken to. "I am aware," he replies after a moment, in a low, rough voice.

"What's your ability? Are you some sort of telepath?"

He turns his head to look at her for the first time, his expression strangely blank, as if he is wearing a mask. "I do not know what you are talking about," he says after a long pause.

She sighs. The man with dreadlocks is approaching. They're running out of time. "Look, I can help you get away, but only if I know what you can do."

To her surprise, he throws back his head and laughs, a sound like sandpaper. Dreadlocks reaches under his jacket for his gun, suddenly alert, but doesn't draw it. Spiky Hair carefully sets his drink on the bar and begins to meander back over to the table.

"You would soon come to regret aiding my escape," the mutant says, not bothering to lower his voice.

Dreadlocks looks suspiciously at Rogue, as if expecting her to pull out a gun and start blasting.

"Time to call it a day, Todd," Spiky Hair says, and though his voice is laconic there's no question that it's an order.

Todd—the mutant—nods with no sign of reluctance and leaves without another word to Rogue. One of the Marines gathers Todd's chips and carries them to the counter.

She considers leaving it at that. It's clear that something strange is going on, but Todd doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger—or, at least, he doesn't seem to think that he is. She wavers for maybe thirty seconds before deciding that she has to know more.

She leaves her chips and makes her way back through the casino and out into the bright Nevada sun, just in time to see Todd climb into the back seat of a sleek black town car, Dreadlocks sliding in after him. She jogs toward the car, not certain what she's planning, only to skid to a stop when Spiky Hair appears out of nowhere to block her path. His brow is furrowed and she's fairly certain he's scowling at her behind his sunglasses.

"Look," he says, "whatever you think you know, you don't, okay? Back off."

"Who are you?" she demands, flexing her bare hand. She doesn't like to use her power, but in an emergency she'll do what she has to. "Part of some anti-mutant black ops team?"

"Excuse me?" he says incredulously. "You've got the wrong idea. Todd isn't a mutant."

"Oh yeah? What is he, then?"

"Something much more dangerous."

Yeah, like she's gonna believe that. "Dangerous how?"

His lips twist in a grimacing smile. "Let's just say that you wouldn't want to shake his hand."

"Mister, he wouldn't want to shake mine."

Spiky Hair sighs and pushes up his sunglasses, looking her in the eye. Normally she's not fooled by such tactics—in a world where some people can change to look like anyone they want to, the eyes aren't always the window to the soul—but she likes the directness in his gaze. He has nice eyes.

"He's a serial killer," he says bluntly. "Reformed, sort of, and he works with us on some cases that require his specialized knowledge, but he's still a monster. There are some people who shouldn't be loose in the world, and that's got nothing to do with being a mutant or not."

She thinks about Magneto and decides that maybe he's right. Still… "Don't think I'm not going to look into this," she warns, already planning her report to Professor X.

He smirks that lazy smirk again and lowers his sunglasses. "Good luck with that," he says, and saunters to the car.

She stares after them long after they've pulled away from the curb and driven off. Then Magneto walks by, _sans_ helmet for once, and she forces her mind back into the game.


End file.
